


To Perfection

by eyeus



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Human, Eggs Benedict, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeus/pseuds/eyeus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor remembers Loki’s first words to him being, “This Hollandaise sauce is so sour I can’t even call it <i>tangy</i>. Did you scrape this off the bottom of a barge?”</p><p>Yes, thinks Thor, they had gotten off to a <i>fine</i> start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Diner AU. Written for **[tothetwelve](http://tothetwelve.tumblr.com)** ’s Christmas Card event. The prompt was “Thor’s this really good cook with a heart of gold, and Loki’s a harsh food critic who falls in love with his cooking”.

~

“Oh my god,” says Sif, as the bell hanging over the door does its customary _drring-a-ling_. Except in this case, it’s actually a sort of _drrddingdring_ , like someone’s being especially snappish with the door. “It’s _that_ guy again.”

She’s hanging out in the kitchen again today; perks of being half the management of this diner. The other half is her brother Heimdall, the bankroller, who no one’s ever seen but somehow knows _everything_ about the place and its patrons.

Thor laughs from where he’s swirling an egg in a pot full of hot water, to poach it just so. He’s glad for the heat that hides the flush in his cheeks. “His name is Loki. And he’s not so bad, once you get to know him.”

“Wish you’d stop making excuses for him,” Volstagg says as he walks by. “Didn’t he destroy the last two diners he reviewed?” He hefts a sack of flour over his shoulder to carry to the back, grunting from the effort. The flour will be for the pancakes they serve tomorrow; the morning crowd always wants the traditional eggs and bacon, pancakes, and hash browns. Cosmic Diner offers other options, but most of the customers are content with their basic breakfasts and cups of the bitterest, blackest joe.

Loki is not most people.

He prefers eggs Benedict over any other dish they serve, including their more popular hashes and omelettes, and the lobster crepe that Thor himself is partial to. He likes his eggs poached soft, and he always wants the smoked salmon of his favourite dish laid beneath the eggs, not slapped on top like an afterthought. And the Hollandaise sauce is another story entirely; Thor remembers Loki’s first expression at his food being of disgust and his first words to Thor being, “This sauce is so sour I can’t even call it _tangy_. Did you scrape this off the bottom of a barge?”

Yes, thinks Thor, they had gotten off to a fine start.

“Seriously, though,” Sif huffs, slightly above a whisper. “He comes in, bitches about our food, leaves a crappy tip, and hightails it out of here. I just don’t get why he keeps coming back.” She doesn’t go out to the entrance to show Loki to a table; he always occupies the one in the corner, his back to the wall so he can face the windows. Like there’s a world to be known out there, culinary or otherwise.

Thor just smiles and shrugs as he spreads slices of fresh avocado over an English muffin. Tucks slivers of smoked salmon in between, before carefully tipping his poached eggs on top and drizzling a zig-zag of brown butter Hollandaise over the dish, gentle.

And when he goes out personally to serve the same dish Loki has ordered every time he’s come in, there’s a subtle smile waiting under the veneer of sharp words and vitriol Loki reserves for everyone else. That’s why it’s all right if no one else sees it yet, why Loki keeps coming back. When he smiles, just for Thor, it’s all okay; it’s all for _him_ , and no one else matters anymore.

“Hey,” says Thor, as he sets the plate down. He feels himself grin in Loki’s presence, like it’s automatic. Lets his fingers brush, dry, against Loki’s on the table. 

Loki lifts a brow, but he doesn’t move his hand away. “‘Hey’? What happened to, ‘here’s your dish, and here, have some pancakes, on the house’? Or ‘I hope you enjoy our new—’”

Thor silences him with a kiss to the tip of his nose. “If you’d like, you can have some _Thor_ later, on the house,” he dares, waggling his eyebrows. 

This late in the day, there aren’t any more customers, and though he’s sure Sif and Volstagg are having a conniption in the back kitchen over what he’s just done, Thor can’t bring himself to care. It’s time they knew, anyway. He and Loki haven’t shown any kind of affection in public in the one month since they’ve begun dating—just furtive glances and shy touches—but this, this is a start.

“You are impossible,” Loki huffs. He picks at his dish before it goes cold, but lets Thor stay, to press a hand to the small of his back. To watch Loki cut his meal into small, inch-wide pieces, and chew thoughtfully, as if he’s savouring each bite. Thor feels a quiet swell of affection in his chest at that, at the way Loki seems to relish this dish he’s made, that he’s more than perfected now.

“Impossibly enamoured, more like,” says Thor sincerely. “Of _you_.” He watches Loki carefully, waiting for his reaction. Ignores the waffle-sized kitchen door window through which he sees Volstagg staring slack-jawed at them and Sif making furious hand motions while mouthing _what the actual fuck_. 

“Oh,” Loki breathes, in surprise and wonder both. He pushes his plate away, half-eaten. Thor’s always known Loki’s first love is good food, but this makes him think he could be a close second. Makes him dare to hope. But maybe this is too much, too soon and Thor’s overplayed his hand. _Damn_.

His fears are laid to rest when Loki lays his hand over Thor’s. “As am I,” Loki says quietly. Their mutual confessions hang in the air for all of two breaths before Loki pats his stomach, sated, and grins cheekily. “Now then,” he says, “if your on-the-house offer still stands…”

“It does,” Thor nods.

“Good,” says Loki, and they grin at each other like fools until Sif storms out there with dish towel rolled into a rat-tail, demanding to know what the hell is going on, and exercising her rights as a manager to find out the latest in juicy gossip.


End file.
